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"I am not ashamed to
confess that I am
ignorant of what I do
not know."


Cover Design: STEVE QUINN 73

Vol. LXX


No. 2

Member Agricultural College Magazines, Associated





Typing Staff

Rich Polgar
Tony Piotrowski
Rich Carver

Art Staff

Steve Quinn


Bob Bosenberg
Rich Carver
Gary Miller
Rich Polgar

Business Staff

Bob Bosenberg
Gary Miller
Rich Polgar
Tom Pyle


Bruce Sterling Baessler 71 Howard Mandel 74

Ray D. Blew 74 Tom Martin 72

Luis Castaner 74 Gary Miller 72

Cicero Steve Quinn 73

John Geiger 71 Kenneth Weaver 71

Chris Klipp 72 Dillon Williams 72


Dr. George Keys Dr. John Mertz

The GLEANER is published twice during the school year by the students of
Delaware Valley College of Science and Agriculture, Doylestown, Pennsylvania.
The GLEANER is a student publication, and the opinions expressed herewith are
not necessarily those of the GLEANER staff or the Administration. Neither the
College nor the staff will assume responsibility for plagiarism unknowingly oc-
curring within.



This issue of the Gleaner is dedicated to two people who have
given themselves to helping others and have added much to the health
of the college.

The college nurses, Mrs. Claudia Cornell and Mrs. Elizabeth Potts
may be found by anyone — especially the hypochondriacs — in the
nurses' office during any of the normal office hours.

Mrs. Cornell, although a native of Brevard, N. C. and a graduate
of nursing school from Brady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Ga., resides
in New Britain with her husband Edward, and two sons, Dan and
Randy. She has worked at the college since March 30, 1965, and also
relieves nurses in the Doylestown Hospital Accident Ward. The Central
Bucks Registered Nurses and the New Britain Baptist Church both
enjoy her avid participation in their activities when Mrs. Cornell is not
at the hospital or college.

Mrs. Potts is from Philadelphia and attended the nursing school
in Germantown Hospital, Philadelphia. Mrs. Potts is D. V. C.'s nurse
in residence as she lives in the Barness Hall apartment. She has seen
Aggies get sick and better, and quite a few at that, as she has been
a D.V.C. nurse since September 11, 1956.

Her interests — besides the students at D.V.C, are her dog and
her special hideaway cabin in Canada where she spends the summer

The staff of the Gleaner is proud to dedicate this issue to both
Potts and Mrs. Cornell for their invaluable help and motherly


— John geiger

When i was young i loved walking cool river banks
soft spring mud leaving traces of my traveling.

When i was young i loved the empty beach
warm summer sand clinging to my clothes.

As i grew i loved the pastel forest

the dried autumn leaves tumbling down as i tread past.

Now i am older and i love you;

love ... as i did the soft spring mud
summer sands autumn leaves

Each is alone and can never be mixed

never forgotten always treasured.

The noise of people is gone

no chatter of gears, screeching of brakes,
hum of traffic.

Instead of leering superstructures,

the majesty of the forest encompasses
your body.

The soft mist resting upon the mirror of water.
The diffusing sunlight penetrating my mind.

A mind now void of the noises of physical life.

So the other self exists.

It now dodges through your mind, staring from a dark

Leering in the open spaces.


Birth .... death .... alone together?
These questions stare at me

pinch and probe

torment and tranquilize.
Alone — one, with no other.
Together — two or more function as a unit.

How is man to be?

I thought alone the strong rock.

Together a mass of sliding pebbles.


— Ray D. Blew

Late evenings,

Wondering, after work is done,
If I should possess the sun
In the early morning,

Would I become entangled
In a golden coppice?

Or could I struggle through,

Laboring hard

And wearing the scars,

That my touchstone advised me to do?

— Bruce Sterling Baessler

Another down,

how many more to go?

For some,

They'll never see another.

One day you can

all come see me

in my silk lined home.

Don't cry for me

for I've lived in a time

of greatness.

I'll never fight a war,
nor know starvation.
So don't cry for me.
Rejoice that you still
live in this greatness.
So when I die
drink a cup of wine
in a toast to all who live.



— Dillon Williams

Tonight I sat down at the table

To eat my supper cold.

Across the way I saw a man

Who looked as if he could have told me who I was.

I stared at him like he was strange

Ignorance is old.

I got up from my chair

To go out in the rain.

To see if I had gotten a card

Maybe a letter or refrain from a friend.

It was cold out there in wonderland

But who was I to blame.

By the lake I sang a song

To shatter the mirror in my mind.

But even the water showed a wrinkled face

Like a man too old for time or lollipops.

Too afraid to feel myself

I turned a victim of manunkind.

s.CHnsTOPtfea, q^viw



— Dillon Williams

Over the hill and down the path

Over the silky aftermath

Of trampling feet.

Further on we meet

Queen Ann who waves her lace

And blushes when we ask her grace

As we mount the quarry wall

And harken her majestic call.

Now standing on the grassy ledge

First glimpse of emerald lake, where sledge

Once tried to drain

The precious lime from out the vein.

But lime has given way to jewel.

No more shall the worker's tool

Drive the peg into the wall

To crack the rock and make it fall.

Instead the gentle people come

To escape man's mortal requiem.

Onward, downward, passed the earth

Finding peace at priceless worth.

Here, naked sat the man

Staring deep with head in hands

Watching colors bright and bold

Hue of silver, blue, and gold

Swimming in a lake of green

Secluded, peaceful, and serene.

We watched as youth with bosom bare

Stroked her long, brown, flowing hair.

She was floating on a raft

While McDuff, the dog, watched fore and aft.

A black haired scottie in the sun

With no other goal in life but fun.

The Living Eighteenth Century


Photo Credit

A warm glowing fire, the twinkling of candlelight and the steady
whorling of a spinning wheel transforming flax fibers into linen thread,
all reminiscent of a time long ago, but still not forgotten. The aroma of
fresh hearth-baked bread intermingled with the pungent odor of herbs
drying by the fire are all present in a house of the eighteenth century.
Houses such as these are not only present in Williamsburg, Virginia,
or Sturbridge, Massachusetts, but exist even in the town of Doylestown.

The house being referred to is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Charles
Mitchell of 39 Mercer Avenue. Mrs. Mitchell is the proprietor of an
antique shop in the Guild, along Route 202 and deals largely in primi-
tives of iron, tin and wood. Mr. Mitchell is employed by Univac and
for hobbies enjoys tinsmithing, blacksmithing, carpentry, and clock
repair, all of which enable him to help his wife with her shop.


Their home is a living part of the eighteenth century having been
built in 1768 by Aaron Worthington for his wife and family. It was a four-
room stone house with a loft and adjoining lean-to, housing a nine-foot
walk-in fireplace. By 1772 the Worthington family had increased in
number and they found it necessary to build a log cabin addition to
the house containing a keeping room and additional loft. The house
passed through many families and finally in 1926 the house was pur-
chased by Dr. Mercer. He completely restored it using only lumber
and hardware of the period. The slate roof was replaced by one of
cement covered with copper. Then a few years later the log cabin was
enclosed with stone in order to preserve it. Although this is not the
oldest house in Doylestown, it is the only one in which the outside
dimensions haven't been changed in nearly two hundred years.

The original charm of the house is retained by the nine-foot walk-in
fireplace with its six-foot flagstone hearth and the bee-hive oven. This
is only one of the three remaining fireplaces in the home. All the rooms


have the exposed, hand-hewn beams and the random-width oak floor-
ing. Furnishings are mostly antiques of the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries. One piece of interest is the large pine pewter
cupboard, housing a magnificent collection of rare American and
English pewter. There is also a beautiful Pennsylvania Dutch cupboard
with the old blue buttermilk stain, which houses a collection of whale
oil lamps and handless cups and saucers. Authenticity is carried as
far as to use the rope supports for the antique rope beds.

The house is more than just a shell of rock. Over two hundred
years ago, the colonist hand hewed the beams, moved the earth and
stuffed the seams with hair and mud. It was hard work and well appre-
ciated after completion. Now only a few people realize what a house
such as this represents; remnants of yesteryear and time when man
earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. I think it great that a house
such as this still remains to remind us of the time when man lived and
worked with nature rather than against it.

— Luis F. Castaner

It's always there, seen and

To feelings dull and to feelings
keen. ^.

It grows and festers into many
parts. ^^^ ^^

It reaches the bones, it infects
the heart. .^


Like a disease its symptoms are

As love is to GOD this was to
Cain. ^

Many men have died and they knew
not why;

Its trademarks are violence and
the common lie.

It exists in men great, it lives
in men small;

It makes strong men weak and
weak men fall. m»

It has no shape, nor has it

All say it's terrible and ask
what to do;

The answer my friends,
I leave to you.




— Chris Klipp

The sunrise —

The night is passed!

The moonrise —

The day is passed!

Another day —
Is life too fast?

— Bruce Sterling Baessler

If I could sketch,

I'd love to copy this tree

or even take a picture

but a look is all I get

for I lack in all these things.

Now it's in my mind

and hands

a sketch

no pen can make.

11 -

2/6/71 a Robin!

— Bruce Sterling Baessler

A red breast

flitted in front of me

alone in a paradise

perched on a

dormant branch.

Singing his song to

proclaim the

coming of life

to the cold glaze of ice.


My mind is in a time of deep concern,
Of a world filled with trouble and hate.
It's hard for one to think and learn,
And not to worry of his fate!

Think of things, that just might please,
That will put troubles to rest,
It's hard to get your mind at ease,
War or freedom — Which is best?

— Chris Klipp


— John geiger

the brown muck flows by:

the pungent fumes of decaying minds
burns your nostrils

the clinging gray mass purges your gonads,
grabbing for higher possession.

it runs deeper faster its foulness now

shrouds your body.

you tread harder stand taller the rotting

matter reaches higher.

it is reaching clawing your eyes see

only dark your ears hear no sound

nostrils draw no breath.

you are now lost:

and your mind rots in the compost of
stagnant thought.



— Howard Mandel '74

I'm going on a ship. Do you want to come along?


Here we go, I know you'll like the voyage.

See the fish and the waves and the stars and Mars and

Saturn and

ladies and gentlemen welcome aboard
the good ship. To your right
Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar,
And be better off than you are?
Mary had a little lamb, with fleece,
as white as snow. It falls right down and
breaks off his crown and they couldn't
put him back together again.

While the phasing stops to saunder onto Tonya.
Tonya on Tahnya. It's only a place in my mind,
but it's as real as reality.

Just to dream — a land where people care enough

not to care. Where we don't carry colors and

a flag means something again;

Just a smile is all we need — we know without

words — too far from reality to be true —

What a Fantasy.

Or, would you like to swing on a star?
You would be better off than you are!
Or would you rather be a Ram?

- 14 -

— Bruce Sterling Baessler

Who can condemn


or thousands

who went north?

Didn't they say

and not maybe . . . ?
Did they run

to greener pastures
to chew the cud
of freedom?
To see a spring of
beauty rather
than fear.

— John Geiger

When I was young

My block was the world and I knew every continent.

I could stalk the tigers
Or straddle the oceans.

Now I've grown small.

I can't cross the oceans

And I hide from the animals of the jungle.



— Dillon Williams

I looked at you with a grin on my face

Shamefully I tried to state my case.

As the train slowly pulled away

I whispered what I had to say,

Not knowing if you heard me

And wondering if you'd try to see

Things my way. I wondered if you'd understand

And return someday to take my hand.

I waited for an answer to my plea.

A short time passed and I received

A letter telling me I was not rejected

But still a friend not to be neglected

Or put away upon a shelf. In return

I told of all the wrong that burns

Within my heart. Praying for secure repose

I waited patiently. But I heard only echoes —

My longest days have turned to years

And all my hopes became my fears.


— Bruce Sterling Baessler

The mounting climax

produced a land of

pulsating white clouds

rhythmatically spraying over the land,

while crystal fairies

dance in the tree tops,

as winter comes

its final time.




— Dillon Williams

I'd like to go out to a fresh plowed field
And feel the cool earth beneath my feet;
Where once the massive tractor wheeled
To pull the plow that has peeled
The rye to make ready for the wheat.

In the early morning I would take the walk.

With naked toes I'd comb the grasses wet with dew

And listen to the blue jay squawk,

Perched upon pokeberry stalk,

Watching old give way to new.

Man must learn the lesson of the farmer and his field.
To prosper, each must render partially his gain
Rejuvenating earth, assuring yield
Before it is too late and our fate sealed
And all the earth a desert once again.

Man has used the most of nature's store
Draining all the blood from out her veins.
Still we thirst and vainly cry for more
Digging further in her core
Until nothing else remains.

- 19


— Gary Miller '72

Finally the time had come! The chance of a lifetime
had presented itself and could not be denied.

For the middle week of November I was to be the

sole possessor of peace and happiness at a cabin in Ver-
mont. The week before I had transported all my equip-
ment to the camp; tape recorder, typewriter, and my
precious notes that had taken so many years to collect.

All I had ever needed was the time, the freedom from
distractions of my wife and children to finally put all my
{? work together into the book that I was afraid someone
else would publish before me.

The camp was beautifully situated in the shadows of
| Mount Mansfield, inaccessible to all intruders, except those
who dared to attempt the treacherous journey by foot from
2> the nearest road seven miles away.

So it was, on November 13, that I bade goodbye to |
; my family at the airport and flew to Berlin, Vermont where
I obtained a ride to the place u here I was to begin my trek.

I found the camp in much the same condition as I §
had left it the neck before. The cold winter winds had |
uprooted several of the trees surrounding the cabin and
one such victim of the gale8 had narrowly escaped crushing

the cabin in its downward flight.


After entering the cabin I made enthusiastic measures
to prepare all my equipment for the tasks of the iveek
ahead. I carefully went about setting up the electrical
equipment and setting out ashtrays, pencils, paper, and
other incidentals that I thought I would need during the
course of my writing. After a hearty lunch, I sat down with
an optimistic thought that at last I was to accomplish my

Much to my own surprise, all went very smoothly.
The only noise ivas that of the echoing of the typewriter.
By the end of the week I had impatiently repacked
and teas starting down the mountain with my finished

The weather was harsh; the sky was grey; the wind, M
bitter and cold. The air was damp with the smell of fresh
fallen snow.

The snow fell with a blinding quickness as I trudged
on through the storm. Finally, when I could bear the cold
no longer, I sought the shelter of a newly fallen tree.

My feet and hands and ears had long since grown
numb and I was weak from exhaustion. Slowly I closed
my eyes as the white silent shroud of death loomed all
around me. Clutching my manuscript to my breast, I fell
into a deep sleep, with the one last prayer that my heart
and mind had been understood in their efforts to achieve.

-21 -

— John geiger

When i was small i went fishing every spring.

Usually i just had fun, sometimes i caught a fish.

He would splash silver water as i brought him to me,
shining in the sunlight as i held him in the air.

i never did have him for dinner, i had only memories of his
hesitation as i put him back in his flowing world.

i don't go fishing anymore,

never seem to find the time or silvery water.

i just like to let my thoughts have fun and play games.

In springtime ideas are hooked and pulled from the deep
waters of winter to shine in the sunlight.

They start to grow and glimmer in the warm sun

and then, as the fish, they hesitate and swim away.


Sketch — Steve Quinn


— Dillon Williams

How beautiful the snow as twilight falls
Each flake a diamond caped in ermine white;
Fur lined arcs and angles small
Reflecting fading rays of light.

Crystal daggers hanging from the sparkling homes
Suspended from the eves above my head,
Waiting for the cold wind's icy groans
To shatter wistful living into dead.

How somnolent the winter wonderland
When evening casts a peaceful spell;
Forget nor disregard the devil's hand
That melts the heavenly snow to hell.


— Bruce Sterling Baessler

The menorah is

set afire,

not nine lights

but thousands

of embers to fill the sky.

How many will light the


in worship of gods?

Yet how few they are
that see the candles
lit for man
by God.


Something New

Something new has happened

to you.

Leftover dreams have mistaken
you for two.

Once upon a time

There was no question.

Once you didn't take the time

To mention

what was new.

Why do you call them all
the last time?

Now our own little world
is only pastime.

Once upon a time

There was no question.

Once you didn't take the time

To mention

what was new.

— Ray D. Blew



— Dillon Williams

Why do people dream?

Just to elude life

To stay above the clouds

Avoid the rain.

I spend most of my life in a bubble.

But it only bursts when I expect too much.

If I could bathe in the sun

And shower in the rain

I wouldn't need to dream.

But harmony is like the autumn leaves.

— john geiger

so it begins

and so it shall end

as it was so shall it be.
life goes on in these riddles
the paths diverge
yet come together,

trails meander

yet follow straight,
why must it be? who is to say?

i am myself

and so i shall be

not as others,
as I



Factors Effecting The
Respiration of Tree Fruits


Historically respiration was referred to as the exchange of gases
between an organism and its environment. (12) This was then divided
into two processes, aerobic and anerobic. Presently respiration is de-
fined as energy releasing reactions which involve the uptake of oxygen,
i.e. aerobic. (10) Reactions which do not involve oxygen (anerobic)
are referred to as fermentation. (10)

While researching this treatise the term respiration climacteric was
encountered quite frequently. There is apparently some confusion as
to the meaning and usage of this term and/or concept. The following
shall be an attempt to elucidate this concept and other terminology
relevant to it:

Respiration Intensity as
measured by C0 2 evolution.






# of days

This chart may be referred to as respiratory climacteric or respira-
tory index. The example used in the ensuing discussion will be apples,
but similar graphs are true for most fruits except pears and citrus

Segment A of the graph represents the C0 2 evolution of the fruit
when it is mature; maturity being that state in the physiological devel-
opment of the apple when physical cell expansion has terminated.
Segment B represents the C0 2 evolution of the ripening stage of
development. Ripening is the term representative for the breakdown
of pectinaceous material into sugars. These sugars (mostly fructose)
are the oxidized and consequently C0 2 evolution increases. (12)
The point at which C0 2 evolution is greatest before its decline is re-
ferred to as the climacteric peak, seen at the end of segment B. Seg-
ment C then represents only a decrease in C0 2 evolution proportional
to the concentration of the substrate. (12) Segment D is usually re-
ferred to as senescence. Senescence literally means aging, and in
fruits represents degradation of proteinaceous material into sugars.

The above graph is representative and useful only for illustration.


At ambient temperatures this process would gradually decrease, in the
absence of micro-organisms, to a zero point of CO- evolution. (12)
With these thoughts established, the paper shall proceed to examine
the factors affecting respiration, and secondly deal similarly with

Factors Affecting Respiration

Respiration is the physical and chemical process by which an
organism supplies its cells and tissues with oxygen needed for meta-
bolism and relieves them of carbon dioxide. (11) This involves a great
many complex steps, the chemical summation of which is usually
represented thusly:

C«H ia + 60,



674,000 cal.

While it is not important for this project to show the complexities of
all the steps of respiration, it is beneficial to realize the basic steps
of the Krebs Citric Acid Cycle. The complete cycle takes place in the
mitocondria and is perhaps the most important cycle in the ripening
and breakdown of fruits. The following is a simplified pathway for the
oxidation of sugar via the Krebs Cycle: (10)


Breakdowns and rearrangements not
involving oxygen



C.< compounds

Oxaloacetic acid

Succinic acid





On carrier molecule coenzyme
A "active acetate"

Citric acid

Ketoglutanc acid



The respiratory climacteric of apples is primarily the result of COj
production of Krebs Cycle. Hulme et al. (7) proposed that the climac-
teric of apples may be a result of a turnover of lipids which results in
ethylene production. It was also proposed that there are four sequen-
tial enzyme systems developed in reaching the climacteric peak. They
are as follows: (7)

1. Increased incorporation of acetate into lipid.

2. Enzyme production of ethylene.

3. Incorporation of labeled valine into protein.

4. Rapid decarboxylation of added malate.

Theoretically all of these systems can be prevented by the presence
of inhibitors of RNA and protein synthesis. (7)

Sugar is not the only product which can act as a substrate to be
oxidized. There are also organic acids, and fats which are substrates
at ambient temperatures. More recently Fidler and North (5) have
determined that sorbitol is another substrate at cold temperatures of
less than 3°C.

At ambient temperatures one can, by determining the respiratory
quotient (RQ- which is based on moles C0 2 evolved/moles 2 ab-
sorbed), ascertain the substrate that is being oxidized, by comparing
the values to the following standards: (10)


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